


To The Land of the Living

by Kitkatzgr8



Series: Corpse Groom [5]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Corpse Bride AU, Deceit's name is Dolos y e p totally didn't just jump the bandwagon on that one, Everyone is pure basically and I just wanna give them all hugs, Implied/Referenced Child Neglect, Mentioned Character Death, Patton is a pure boyo, Piano, Roman deserves love, Roman is a confused boyo, Roman is a pure boyo, The reader is a confused friendo like what the heck was this, sanders sides corpse bride au, self-deprecating thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 21:12:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16668373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitkatzgr8/pseuds/Kitkatzgr8
Summary: Virgil and Roman finally sit down and work some things out. Both really miss a certain pun-loving, glasses-adorned man.





	To The Land of the Living

**Author's Note:**

> Haha, it's only been like... more than a month... since I updated this... hahaha...
> 
> Goretober kinda ate up my time and low-key used up every creative idea in my mind, so it took me a bit longer than usual to finally turn out something I was okay with posting. On that note, if you wanna see what I was up to while procrastinating this, go check out my 'Goretober 2018' collection! My personal bests for the Sanders Sides were day 6 (Drowning) and 10 (Hanahaki) if you're interested for some reason. 
> 
> Anyway, enough random self promos, let's get to the actual story. This feels really... confusing, to say the least, and I feel like Roman's thoughts and emotions in the entire first half are just random rambles that go around and around in circles, but... gosh darn I tried, so I'mma just post it.

Roman’s first instinct when Virgil pushed past him was to follow, talking a few steps towards the other only to be greeted with the slam of a door in his face. His skeletal hand had reached for the rusted doorknob, stalling only for a moment before closing around the intricately designed metal, only to draw back once again as Logan put a paw on his neck.

“Don’t,” Logan said in a quiet, but commanding tone, stopping Roman in his tracks. “He’s overwhelmed… Let him have a moment to collect himself.”

Nodding slightly, he took some slow steps backward, only stopping when his back hit the wall opposite the door his beloved had gone through. Sliding down into a sitting position, Roman felt Logan slip off of his shoulder, clambering down to the ground before taking a place on the corpse’s knee. The small bit of warmth was comforting and grounding; maybe not as warm and comforting as his husband’s presence, but the intelligent rat had always been a fraction of solace in this cold, lonely existence he found himself thrown into nearly four years ago.

... nearly four years to the day, in fact. It was winter now, wasn’t it? And a full moon as well. That would mean it was…. yes, quite possibly four years since the exact date of his death…

...Four years and a day since he had last seen his family, four years since he was betrayed by the one he thought loved him, three years since he had begun hoping for a knight in shining armor to rescue him from his prison under the earth, two and a half years since he had begun composing the final draft of his ballad for his beloved, a year since he had begun to give up on that fairy tale hope…

….And only a day since he had finally had that dream come true, only for it to be broken in mere seconds by the man behind the door he was blankly staring at.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. And then… “He didn’t marry me intentionally, did he?” Roman’s voice was quiet and small in a way Logan hadn’t heard ever since he had found the man stuck in isolation a few years back, quietly singing to himself as he gripped something in his hand to his heart, looking as dead and hollow as his body truly was. For as many times Logan had complained about the other, sometimes professing that he had wished they had never met in the first place, he had to admit that the corpse had eventually grown on him.

He never wanted to see him with that pure hopelessness in his eyes ever again.

Logan sighed, whiskers twitching at the movement. “I don’t think so,” he replied in an uncharacteristically quiet tone, and the corpse’s hopes dissolved completely at those words. He had held onto the other’s intelligence as a small solace, hoping that perhaps he simply hadn’t read the situation right, and that Logan would, like the smartass he was, list all the reasons that his husband _did_ want to be with him, _did_ love him, _did_ want to stay with him…

But he didn’t.

Stupid, stupid, _stupid_. Roman was so incredibly stupid to think that this could work out! That someone would reinstate that connection he used to have to the living, once again give him a purpose in his sentience. That someone would even… _care_.

And it hurt, it really did, because Roman had let himself hold onto that hope for so long. At this point, it was only a little sliver of the dream he had once had, but it was still there, holding onto the last bits of itself that hadn’t slowly worn away through years of loneliness. And he hated it, hated that even though he knew deep down that the other most likely didn’t care for him, he still stubbornly held that battered scrap of hope for himself protectively in his heart. Because the other had said the vows, slid a ring onto his finger, helped pull him from the ground, driving away nearly every bit of loneliness that had a grip on Roman’s busted heart with only a touch and his intentions of saving him. He had done all that, which meant that maybe… maybe…

But... no, he had to face facts. Logan was right. The other never had intended for this to happen, which was even worse than someone purposefully subjecting him to this new heartbreak. He could have handled malicious intent, someone purposefully pulling him through this new and agonizing hell just to watch his already abused heart shatter once again. That was an experience he was all too familiar with, and he knew that he had gotten through that heartbreak and could once again.

...He wasn’t prepared for this apologetic accident. He wasn’t prepared for the other patiently sitting through his piano piece, playing alongside his voice, critiquing and complimenting it when it was over. He wasn’t prepared for the obvious attempts at letting him down gently, quietly stuttered words from a man who just wanted to go home and yet still remained relatively patient with him.

He wasn’t prepared for Virgil, with his deep and knowing brown eyes, with his small smiles that made his heart clench, with that rare laugh that had made his entire body freeze up, with the made he made him feel at peace in a way nobody, not even _Dolos_ , had made him feel…

Well… that wasn’t true.

No matter how much it hurt, no matter how much he tried to push those thoughts away, tried to suppress the memories of warm hugs, of comfort in a dark place, of shared smiles and a sense of peace in the chaos of his former life…

...he couldn’t completely push away the one that he so desperately wanted to remember and forget at the same time, the only one who had ever made him feel worth something in his life before he had thought his husband did, the one who had caused just as much heartache at leaving behind as Dolos had done when killing him…

...He couldn’t forget his brother.

He couldn’t forget _Patton_.

When Logan had been discussing possible paths Roman could take after his husband, he had brought up finally fulfilling his promise he had given to his brother so long ago. The rat had said that he couldn’t go back to him. And Roman had to agree that... well, he was dead. Patton could quite possibly be terrified of him. Disgusted by him. Heck, the little ball of sunshine could barely handle a dead spider in their room. Who knows how he might react to find the jokingly dubbed ‘(K)nightly Remover of Creepy-Crawley Death-Dealers’ as a half-rotting corpse on his balcony?

...But if Roman was being entirely straight ( _heh_ ) with himself, he knew that wasn’t the real reason he couldn’t go back.

He was afraid.

He was afraid because he had failed. The one thing that he had prided himself in, his romanticism at heart that he had thought could carry him to the end of time with his eventual killer, he had failed at. Roman hadn’t even really protected himself, just stared numbly into the other’s golden brown, nearly yellow eyes as the tempered steel of his own blade entered his body. He should’ve been smarter, should've been more cautious.

He shouldn’t have been so stupid.

But he was, he was stupid, idiotic, and had ended up paying with his life. And if he couldn’t even save himself from that incident…

He wasn’t sure if his abused heart could stand to lose Patton’s love and support. And, if he never went back, he would never have that chance to really lose it, would he? He could live… well, not _live_ , but... he could _exist_ for however long his decomposing body could hold onto itself in a forced state of ignorance, pretending that things were the same as how he had left them, never truly having to face the probable disappointment from the only one who’s opinion could utterly break him.

Because as much as he had tried to brush them aside… words hurt him more than they really should be able to. His parent’s murmurs of how he ‘wasn’t what they raised,’ other Lords’ leering grins as they taunted him for the carefully styled hair and features enunciated lightly with makeup because ‘are you sure you aren’t hiding breasts under that frockcoat, _princess_?,’ the slight offhanded comments from Dolos that should have been warning signs. He was weak. He was a mistake. He was effeminate, gay, a pretty boy that was good for nothing else besides…

It was one of the reasons that the poetry he had found in the back corner of his father's library appealed so much to him. Because, for once, he had found a way to take control of the words that pulled so heavily on him, make them his own, turn them into something that was beautiful and different from the things that were constantly thrown at him. Poetry had given way to epics, and those onto novels, lyrics, works of language arts that he could barely get enough of. He could express himself in them, turn the things said to him into stories and rhymes telling of tragic heroes and valiant hardships. And in those, he became more than a Lord. He was a knight... no, a _prince_ , a suffering hero that was pushed through these horrible things that merely provided for an interesting story. He seized the art of language and attempted to make it his own in order to distract from the overwhelming effect that it had on him when used by others.

...And then he had stumbled across one of his greatest passions of all. Because instruments had their own language, and once Roman had managed to at least partially master the ones that he had access to, a whole new world of words was opened up for him to use. Piano keys conveying words that didn't even have syllables, evoking feelings in chords and notes that would take pages to say aloud or read on a page. And he could combine them, too, adding lyrics to the language of the melodies he played, creating something entirely new and wonderful...

There were so many words, and he was fascinated by all of them. At how they made people feel, at how they told stories, at how they conveyed ideas and places that may not even really exist. Looking at them from an artist's standpoint didn't make them sting any less, but still, he kept dissecting them, picking apart the words to see why they made him feel the way they did. His parent's bored and unimpressed admonishments, his instructor's loud and disapproving shouts, the cruel jeers and slurs from the people who were supposed to be his friends...

...The quiet, complimentary words from his brother; somehow providing relief amidst insults from the crowds of people he could never seem to please. Heartfelt sentiments of how much he really looked up to him, asking shyly if he wouldn’t mind experimenting with makeup on him because ‘you just make it look so good!,’ reading his poems, listing to his songs, giving compliments alongside the constructive criticism that Roman really did crave because that meant that he could improve, become better, see his mistakes and fix them and maybe come up with something that would finally make the others proud… But now…

The words echoed in his mind, drowning out the whispers of a cheerful voice he tried to hold onto until it too was twisted into the hateful comments bouncing around his skull. He was a failure, both as a son, a lover… a brother.

After all, he wasn’t even skilled enough to dodge a simple sword to the gut, was he? Wasn’t smart enough to see the signs that something was wrong, wasn’t perceptive enough to step away from the path that led to his doom…

...Wasn’t strong enough to stay with his brother. Wasn’t strong enough to stay, to protect like he had vowed to do ever since his four-year-old self had laid eyes on the chubby, curly-haired baby his father had shoved into his arms, telling him to ‘take care it’ while he turned back to the gushing guests congratulating his parents on their success of producing another heir.

He had been so small then. Baby blue eyes blinking open to stare curiously at him as he made his way through the halls, dogging servants who were too busy preparing for the party to help him figure out what he was supposed to do with the fragile child wrapped up in his arms, slipping through open doors and taking shortcuts, being cure to not drop the precious cargo that he had been given command over as he found his way back to his room tucked in the darkest corner of the manor.

He had sat there for hours, curled up in a nest of pillows and blankets next to the window, watching as the baby in his arms looked around curiously, one small hand escaping the blankets to tightly grip one of Roman’s fingers. Cuddling closer to him, holding onto him like Roman was his world, falling asleep as if he felt safe in the other’s grip. His heart had swelled with a feeling he had never felt before, only sharpening as the baby later awoke, screaming and crying for things that Roman didn’t know how to provide. All he could do was gently talk to him, pulling him closer to his now-aching heart as the baby eventually cried itself to sleep, not knowing what to do to make him feel better and feeling all the worse about himself for not being able to take away his pain. He had eventually found a servant who had grudgingly given him a 3 minute lesson on the basics of baby care ‘ _if he would just stop that obnoxious racket; he’s disturbing the guests_ ,’ a new feeling in his heart as he finally calmed down the child, watching as his eyes slid closed contently and knowing that he was the one who had finally done something right to make him feel that way.

Almost as though in a daze, Roman sat up, vaguely feeling Logan slip off of his perch on his knee as he pushed himself up into a standing position. Seemingly sensing that the corpse needed some time alone, the rat let him leave, backing away slightly to find somewhere to be out of the way while the other figured some things out.

Roman's gaze darted around the room as his overwhelmed mind tried to separate reality and memories, nostalgia pulling at his heart and distorting his already jumbled feelings even more.

His eyes caught back on the piano, and everything stopped.

In almost an instant, he finds himself sliding onto the half-rotted piano bench, looking down intensely at the instrument before him. His eyes stare blankly at the black and white keys, and the memory of a melody ghosts along the edges of his mind... The only part of his brother that he had left in this place. A song he had spend months on, trying and trying again to find some way to convey the wordless emotions he felt to the only one who made his life okay to live in. His fingers found their way to the keys once more, hands immediately falling into proper playing position and…

He can’t remember.

His fingers trace a few, awkward notes, and they sound right, they really do. They’re only the top notes; the right hand is the only one that seems to be coming back to memory, key by key, note by note; but they sound…

And then his fingers stumble, a flat is hit when he knows it should be a sharp and…

His unbeating heart throbbed, even though that shouldn’t be possible, and his fingers draw back from the familiar black and white pattern.

He can’t even remember the song. He can’t remember the notes.

_...He can’t remember his face._

He sees glimpses of it in his mind, flashes of the pieces that made up Patton but didn’t quite complete him. They were wispy, fleeting, blurry, caught onto for a moment by his mind before they slipped away, leaving only a faint image in its wake.

A flash of messy golden-brown curls catching the sunlight. The glint of black-rimmed glasses. A broad, happy smile. That grey suit coat he always wore tied around his shoulders for some semblance of control amidst their parent’s strictly dictated wardrobe. Those laughing brown eyes that hid so much more below the surface, things that Roman never really knew no matter how much he tried to discover them. Freckles dancing across his cheeks even though he was more often than not kept indoors, kept the pure and perfect son behind glass so Roman could have that chance to be who he knew he was supposed to be.

And that was all he had. Disjointed images that couldn’t fit together, no matter how long he sat there trying to force his death-addled mind to remember. And he had quite a long time to do so... and _had_ done so. Logan told him that it could potentially be as a result of his body slowly decomposing, his mind following in the same way. After all, he knew others, older people who could barely remember their names anymore.

But sensations… though more abstract, he could remember more vividly. Laughter. A bubbling warmth in his stomach. Smiling so wide that his face hurt, feeling like he would burst from happiness. A sense of pride as he watched his little brother grow up with him.

And most memorable and missed of all… arms wrapping around him, somehow being just tight enough without being too constricting. That feeling of safeness, of warmth, of happiness that he somehow got from his hugs even though he was the older one and his brother’s smaller form was really more wrapped up in his arms than he in his own. What he _wouldn’t_ give to have Patton hug him right now.

After all, once Virgil had freed him from his grave, he had assumed he could finally push that heartache behind him. That he could let that relationship rest at peace as it should’ve when he had been killed, to start forming new relationships to stop that crippling fear of loneliness that he had barely staved away with Logan’s presence. Patton was part of a life that he no longer lived, and he should’ve accepted that long ago. And with Virgil’s presence, a new person in his new life that he might not have to cut off… he had hoped… he had hoped that he wouldn’t need…

But Virgil hadn’t intended to marry him, that much was clear. Which just left him now, more than ever, wishing for his brother’s embrace. Something he couldn’t… or, that he _shouldn’t_ , seek out.

… Because it wasn’t just Patton’s _hugs_ he really wanted, was it?

Even though he was the younger brother, Patton always had that sense about him. Comfort. Peace. Warmth. _Safety_. Everything that Roman thought a home was supposed to be.... everything he wished that his parents would be. The things that, even now, left an empty hole in his very being that he thought could be filled by a partner, but was now apparent that they would not. Because even though Patton was younger and was a child at heart, he had an aged soul; often acting more father-like than even he did. Roman may have basically raised Patton, but more often than not, he felt like the younger was more of a father to him than he was to Patton.

Like how he had promised himself to their parents when he was only 8, promising to fill the mold that Roman was supposed to just so that the elder could pursue the ‘savage’ arts of the sword, the ‘unmanly’ talents of music and poetry… and, eventually, the ‘unnatural’ regard he felt for a certain charming young man who found himself on the sparring grounds on Roman’s 19th birthday. Taking the blame for Roman’s screwups, covering for the elder and taking the punishments that were never supposed to be his. Preparing him and helping carry out his plans for his secret elopement. Sending them off with his blessing and a small smile, holding onto that short but heartfelt promise that they would return for him, to take him away from that horrible hellhole that they had been raised in. To take him away from all that hurt, the harsh words that he still smiled through, the punishments behind closed doors, that forced air of a Lord they made him wear in hopes of marrying him off since ‘ _nobody would take someone like Roman, what with how he is now….’_

Roman didn’t have any doubt that Patton was doing just fine without him. Perhaps even more so, now that he didn’t have the weight of his older brother pulling him down, recklessness and bravado constantly bringing a harsh hand on him as he took the blame again and again and _again_ …

Patton was fine. Patton was happy; he always was. By now, he had probably found his own escape from the decorated cage they used to both be imprisoned in together. Maybe through marriage, or perhaps simply leaving on his own, though Roman’s really hoped it wasn’t the latter. After all, no matter how old he may act, that didn’t change the fact that he was still just sixteen, and…

His hands grip the splintering wood of the piano lid, eyes going unfocused as he stared down at the dusty and broken keys in front of him. Patton was no longer sixteen, was he? By now… by now he would’ve been…

 _Twenty_. The same age Roman had been when his life had ended, death permanently sealing him in a decaying, but never-aging body. The same age where he couldn’t protect himself, and now he couldn’t protect Patton, couldn’t go back and see him, _couldn’t even remember the one part of him that he had in this place.._.

His fingers flew back to the keys with frantic desperation, and he tried again. And again. And _again_. Tried to remember the notes from a faded scrap of paper still hidden somewhere in his room alongside its other part, but the notes fall flat, the tune going off key and… he just _can’t_.

He had never taught Patton his part, he never returned as promised, and now, he can’t even remember his damn part. He’s a failure of a brother; how can he not remember something so simple as the song that he wrote specifically for him? His fingers pound at the keys again and _again_ , barely giving him a chance to really process his mistakes before he’s starting back at the beginning, determined to get it right just once. Again, again, again, mistake after mistake after _mistake_ , missing measures in his mind that are just out of his reach, vision blurring as tears begin welling up in his eyes even though they have been dry for so long and he shouldn’t even be able to-

His fingers played over the notes again, and then he suddenly felt a warmth blossom next to him, accompanied by the creak of wood as someone sat beside him.

His hands faltered, notes fading away before they’re picked up by another pair of hands, copying the same tune on the upper notes of the piano.

Roman froze at that, his chest threatening to collapse in on itself because for a second, he’s back there. He’s sitting in one of the back rooms of the manor, fingers poised over the keys, smiling slightly as he looks at the shorter figure sitting next to him. His brother’s tongue pokes out between his teeth as he stares intently at the keys, trying to plunk out the same tune and turning to shoot Roman a sunny grin, adjusting his glasses excitedly as he gets it right.

And then he blinks and, to his surprise, he sees Virgil smirking sheepishly at him from under a curtain of mussed brown hair. His eyes are red and puffy, and trails of the light black makeup he had been wearing earlier are smeared under his eyes through attempts at wiping at long-dried tears. But he’s smiling, a true, real smile that quirks up slightly more on the left, and he glances pointedly back down at Roman’s hands before his eyes flit away.

A bit bemused, Roman finds his fingers continuing the rest of the measure, Virgil's thin fingers finding the same notes a few octaves up and copying them in a rush.

A small smile finds its way onto his own face at that, and he searches his memory for the last measure, just barely managing to hold onto the last few notes as he plays them, fingers catching on the last one and pressing down on it in finality.

Virgil doesn’t copy the notes this time. His eyes trace the keys, fingers moving slightly as if playing imaginary keys, mouthing silent words to himself as he apparently is trying to remember something.

Seeing as how their short-lived game had come to an end, Roman sighed, hands drawing away from the keys. They needed to talk; really talk. No more of his stupid songs, no more dramatic backstories, no more proclamations of blind love and trust, and no more cutting off this poor stuttering young man. He was finally ready to talk, or, rather, let Virgil talk, because, in his emotional turmoil over everything that had happened, he finally realized that he hadn’t let the other speak his mind much. The lack of communication was really what had dragged out this misconception so long, and though he did want to live in a world where this man _did_ want him, where he had chosen _him_ , where he  _did_ want to be married to someone like Roman, he knew he couldn’t let it stay that way forever. He may not be strong enough to face Patton’s disappointment, but he could handle Virgil’s.

He would have to.

Opening his mouth to start the conversation, not even really sure how he was going to start it, he was immediately cut off as Virgil’s eyes light up, fingers dashing once again to the keyboard.

And then the other began playing again, and he had to do another double take to make sure it wasn’t Patton, because...

The notes were played in the same way he had imagined for so long, notes that he had written out forever ago, notes that he had played over and over and over because he had to get it perfect for the most important person in his life, notes that he had never gotten to teach the intended player.

The notes to the part of the duet for Patton’s song.

 _Patton’s_ part.

...How did he…?

Virgil slowed for a second, looking almost apprehensive at the other’s stiffened posture, unfocused eyes staring with an unknown emotion at his hands stalling over the notes. Then he shook himself slightly and continued, jumping into the next measure with shaking hands, throwing quick glances at the other as if nervous he was doing something wrong.

And, even though he knew he shouldn’t and he'll try and forget he had ever felt this way towards Virgil, but for a moment all Roman feels is a rush of anger at the man sitting next to him. Because he doesn’t know why or how Virgil knew it, but that was _Patton’s_ part, and no matter how much he may love the anxious groom, it wasn’t made for him. Even if he hadn’t ever gotten to teach it to the other, that didn’t change the fact that it was made for _Patton_ and _Patton_ alone, and…

...And then he actually listened to what was being played.

It was the same tune he had worked countless hours on, yes, but… While Patton’s was meant to be played in a slow melody, more like a waltz than anything else because that was all Roman had really known how to compose at the time, Virgil’s sped up, more of a fast and jumpy tune than a slow, smooth one. He jumped from one note to the next, making the piece more staccato and more… him. It was as though he was scared of touching each key, quickly jumping to the next before he could rethink what he was most likely coming up with as he went along. Little twists were thrown in here and there, him ad-libbing a few measures before coming back to the central tune. He kept the central beat, but threw a twist in it that made it something completely his own. There were mistakes, sure, but each stray note was turned into a part of the song, building off of that wrong note to create a masterful clash of notes, then returning back to the main melody while he tried to plan ahead for the next bit.

And all that combined made him realize that… it really wasn’t Patton’s part at all.

It was _Virgil’s_.

The man stalled for a moment, playing the same measure a few times as he shot Roman another small smirk, gesturing at the piano with a tilt of his head as if inviting the corpse to join him.

And he did.

For a second, it didn’t matter that he couldn’t remember his part, that he couldn’t get those notes right. His fingers found new notes, hitting the ones he remembered deftly, filling in the blanks with wherever his hands took him. He provided a basis for the melody, strong, low notes that backed up the higher notes being played. Virgil’s part lightly danced around his, still somehow fitting, not perfectly, but fitting well enough with his notes. Patton’s melody is still woven in the background of the song, both men returning to that one somehow shared tune, that one uniting tie between the parts, bringing the song together.

It got louder and louder, both men grinning as they finally found their stride and meter, becoming surer with the notes as they continue. Each part playfully challenged the other in volume, threatening to take over the other’s part as they fight to let their notes be heard, but then falling back to let the other burst through at the last second.

Virgil’s melody fell back once more, and with a small laugh, he let Roman take over. The corpse grinned, fingers spilling over one another as he enters a quick glissando upwards, and…

There’s a snap, a click of bone stumbling over ivory keys, and he can’t stop himself as the fingers clack over the keys in a final glissando, and he can’t stop as his hand runs over Virgil’s, and…

He jerked back in horror as he finally managed to stop his hand from moving, willing to let the fragile limb fall to the floor and potentially shatter as long as he can get it off the other, who was probably disgusted even more than he already...

But a few final notes are played, finishing off alongside his severed limb before gently grabbing it before it can fall from the piano ledge. Virgil just smiled slightly, more of a smirk, really, as he gently held Roman’s rogue limb.

There was no disgust in his eyes.

Still smirking, and really it shouldn’t have been endearing as Roman found it in that moment, his eyes widen as Virgil winked- he _winked_ \- grabbing Roman’s forearm in a light grip and gently attaching the skeletal hand back onto his wrist.

“Honestly, princey, you’re supposed to be falling _for_ me, not falling _apart_ for me.”

He doesn’t look mad, he isn’t scared, and he’s touching Roman willingly and he winked and he wasn’t stuttering anymore and…

" _Princey_?"

Virgil just shrugged, head ducking down to look at the chipping piano keys in front of him. "It just... fit, y'know? I j-just thought I'd... look, you were the one with all the pet names earlier, and I just thought.. y'know, I'd..." His stuttering began to cut into his speech again as his tone became more anxious, and Roman quickly grabbed the other's hand in his now newly reattached one.

“It's fine, Virgil. I actually... uh..." Attempting to take a deep breath to try and calm his jumbled mind- because damn it how was Virgil still making his heart feel like this- he felt his lungs stay heavy and unmoving in his chest, reminding him of the issue at hand. "We… we need to talk,” Roman finished quietly, and Virgil laughed hollowly.

“Understatement m-much?”.

They sat there in silence for a minute or so, the only sounds being Virgil’s steady breaths as they both stared at each other.

And then Virgil began to talk.

“I didn’t m-mean for this to h-happen… though I suppose y-you’ve guessed that m-m-much, haven’t y-you?”

Roman just nodded, not really trusting his words and content to just let Virgil speak for now.

Letting out a short breath, Virgil shrugged as he tried to find what he wanted to say, fingers tapping out a frantic pattern on his leg as his eyes flit back upwards to look at the other.

“It’s not that I d-don’t… like y-y-you, r-really. Because, in a-all honesty, y-you seem l-like…” Roman couldn’t help but smile as the other blushed, left hand rising to rub the back of his neck awkwardly. His eyes flicker up to connect with the corpse’s, and he just sighed, waving his free hand around wildly at Roman’s figure. “... a…n-nice... a nice guy… And I, I j-just…” He sighed again, hand moving from his neck to pick anxiously at his sleeves. “I’m a-already engaged,” he said quietly, and Roman’s smile disappears.

He quickly explains the gist of what had happened, what had led up to their meeting. The engagement, the wedding practice, the panic attack, his real betrothed’s advice about taking a walk to settle his nerves (Roman tried not to smile at the confirmation with Virgil’s betrothed's gender and the now more-probable possibility of the other being attracted to the male gender). His initial horror at seeing a literal living corpse coming towards him, being too scared to move even as they kissed, the overwhelming emotions that eventually led him to the breakdown after it became clear that this was real.

“And it wasn’t l-like I w-was… well, I was s-scared I guess, I m-mean, no offense, but… y-you’re d-dead, and it j-just… startled m-me that y-you were… alive, in a w-way? And I wasn’t s-sure if y-you were g-going to… I mean o-obviously, I can see now that y-you w-wouldn’t… but I was a little s-scared that… I d-d-don’t know, you’d d-do something, and I d-didn’t…”

Roman put a hand on Virgil’s knee as a gesture that he understood. “No offense taken. I’m well aware that I’m dead, dearest. And I do take some portion of the blame for just leaping into it, going for you without even considering that it might be an accident. But I swear on my death, no harm will come to you here.”

“I believe y-you,” Virgil said, and then they fell into silence once more.

“Well, he sounds like a great guy,” Roman eventually forced out. “I’m… glad that you’ve already found your true love, Virgil.”

The other just shrugged slightly, head ducking down, bangs falling once more into his eyes. “Well, it’s n-not romantic or anything, really,” he mumbled. “In fact, I don’t… I d-don’t think that he really loves _anyone_ romantically?” His eyes widened as he said that, and he quickly rushed to get more words out. “N-not that i-it w-would make him a b-bad guy or a-anything, I’m t-t-totally cool with whatever! In all honesty, I’m just g-glad because that m-means that our m-marriage isn’t k-keeping him a-away from someone he a-a-actually l-loves!” His words came out in a rush, jumping to his betrothed defense even though Roman hadn’t said a word against him. A smile played at the corpse’s lips. He might harbor a slight grudge towards this faceless suitor who had already stolen his love away, but his inner romantic couldn’t help but adore Virgil getting protective over his intended husband. “But, he’s j-just… like, he’s a bundle of amazing, nearly overbearing platonic love, and I do… I do l-love him for that. But it’s not r-romantic...." He shrugged, even as a smile played at the corner of his mouth. "I don't think it ever really could be. He’s just… he’s just a really good friend, and he wouldn’t be at all bad to be stuck with for the rest of my life. And I don’t… I don’t think I could give that up. It’s the best chance we’re going to get, what with both of us being shoved into an arranged marriage and all. He gets out of a bad situation with his parents, and I…” he trailed off, then just shrugged. “...and I get him in my life,” he said quietly, and as Virgil glanced up at him, the pure love, protectiveness, and a certain fierceness in his gaze sent a flash of an unnamed emotion through Roman.

“You really do love him,” Roman said quietly, almost as if to himself, and he saw Virgil’s mouth quirk up in another one of his small half-smiles, opening his mouth as if to say something, before closing it to let silence fall over the room once more.

After another minute of silence, Roman was once again the one break it. “We need to get you back,” he said quietly. “It was…” his words stuttered in his mind, and he took a breath before continuing, trying to turn the frantic thoughts filling his mind into coherent sentences. “It was wrong of me to bring you here.

“I don’t blame you,” Virgil replied at the same volume. “I… my actions were confusing, to say the least. Kinda l-led you on there, didn’t I?”

Roman nodded, looking down at his dirt-scuffed shoes to avoid looking at the other. He wasn’t sure how he was feeling, or even how he should be feeling. He was just… kinda confused.

There were quiet footsteps, and then the other’s similarly scuffed shoes entered his vision. “But, uh, h-hey,” Virgil said quietly, nudging the other lightly. “M-maybe in a different life, y’know?”

Roman chuckled hollowly. “Yeah…” he said quietly, eyes flickering up to look Virgil in the eyes, and then letting his vision fall down again. A glint of light catches on Virgil's hand, and a jolt of... something courses through his heart as he sees the scratched rose-gold ring still sitting perfectly against pale skin.

The ring.

The other still hadn't taken it off.

In a way, leaving the ring with Roman was one of the cruelest things that Dolos had done... well, besides killing him and breaking his heart, of course. But as he woke up under the earth, a heavy weight in his lungs and heart as he could still feel his blood clotting in his side wound, the small loop of metal that had been forced into his hand was only yet another painful, physical reminder of what had just happened.

Dolos hadn't even taken the ring.

It was worth something; maybe even a small fortune to the right buyer. It had been in his family for generations, and he was certain that the small facets of gleaming gems set in the band were diamonds. But it was a sign of being married to one of the Heart family, of being married to Roman, and apparently, even the tantalizing price tag on such a thing couldn't override Dolos's absolute loathing of being in such a way with a man like him. After all, the man had said it himself, hissed it into his ear as he pulled the sword back away with a sickening squelch of flesh on metal.

_"Why would you think anyone could ever love you?"_

He had forced the simple copper band off of his ring finger the moment he could do so, trying to push the now-tainted memories stemming from it out of his mind.

 _"...I know it's not much, but it's all I can afford right now, Ro..."_ He had cut the other off with a passionate kiss, tears blurring his vision as he felt a cold hand slip the too-tight piece of metal onto his finger. " _I could care less about the ring; I just want to be with you,"_ he had murmured into the other's mouth.

The moment he had gotten it from his finger, he had let it fall to the ground beside him without giving it a second thought. The rose gold, however, he kept tightly in his hand, though he wasn't sure why he hadn't let that one fall into the earth as well. Maybe it was some sort of sick sense of deserving; that maybe he deserved that constant reminder of worthlessness. Maybe because, in some twisted way, it was the last bit of Dolos that he had, and even though his lover had turned out to be his killer, he still had a piece of Roman's heart and the ring was the only piece of the other that he had in the claustrophobic earth pressing around him. Or maybe...

...Maybe it was _hope_. Hope that one day, his ring could find its way to the hand of someone who looked at him and somehow saw something worth loving.

Slipping the ring for his intended onto the unconscious man's finger as he waited for him to wake up had pushed away some of those feeling of deep self-hatred he felt whenever he looked at the band. And he had hoped that, with time, he could begin associating the coldly gleaming diamonds with Virgil's presence instead of just another reminder of how absolutely worthless he was in the sight of everyone else.

...He probably just hadn't noticed the ring, that was all.

Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt so much this time. Maybe it was because of the gentle rejection, or maybe it was because his heart was already so damaged that he couldn’t feel proper heartache anymore.

...Or maybe….

_“In all honesty, you seem like a nice guy.”_

...Maybe…

_“And I do love him for that... But it’s not romantic…”_

Maybe it was the small smiles that were still aimed at him, the brief once-over he had gotten when they had first met, the way that the other touched him with no disgust in his eyes, the wink... how he was still wearing the ring when even Dolos hadn't because he _had_ to have noticed it and _there was no way he merely just didn't realize he was wearing it, right?..._

Well, what could he say? If any of his past experiences were of any indication, it looked like his heart was incapable of losing hope. 

“So, I…” Awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, Virgil brought their attention back to him. “Does that mean w-we can… that I c-can… go h-home? Back to…. The p-place where the l-living are?” His eyes connected with Roman’s and then fell guiltily back to the floor.

“Well, uh, there is one problem with that, stormcloud,” Roman said quietly, and he had to bite back a small smile at the slight flush that painted the other’s cheeks at his words. Hey, just because Virgil wasn’t engaged didn’t mean that he had to stop the pet names, especially when the other looked just too darn cute all flustered like that! Shaking himself out of his short, love-stricken stupor, he looked up to see Logan’s exasperated gaze peering at him from atop one of the bookshelves to the left of the couple, showed that the rat knew exactly what he was thinking about. Smiling in slight embarrassment, he held out a hand, letting the rat scurry up his limb to take his usual place on Roman’s shoulder. “It’s just… uh, we don’t really know how to… get back there...:”

Virgil’s head snapped up from where he was staring intently at the ground. “W-wait, what?” his voice almost cracked. “But… I… you b-both got me d-down here, how do y-y-you n-not-”

Roman waved a hand, cutting the other off. “Well, the way we got you down here was… unconventional, to say the least. I’m still not really sure what happened, but I know we can’t reverse it and return the same way. So, sadly… we don’t really know how to get you back.

Logan immediately perked up on Roman’s shoulder, tail twitching back and forth in seemingly uncharacteristic excitement. “Well, that is untrue,” he tried to say in his regular monotone but unable to hide the underlying emotion in his words. “After all, there is _one_ place we could find ways to get back to the Land of the Living….”

Roman cocked his head to the side in apparent confusion, and then his face dropped. “Logan, you can’t be serious. You know he doesn’t like to be disturbed this early in the week!”

“Would you fight off a dragon for Virgil right now?” the rat asked, throwing even Roman off with the sudden change in topic.

Throwing a strange glance at the living man standing next to him, he looked back at the rat. “Well, of course! Lo, you know that I-”

“What about an army of-”

“Logan, you know I would fight off a fricking _Manticore Chimera_ for the ones I love!” Roman cut the other off exasperatedly, dramatically falling against the wall as if the mere accusations that he wouldn’t physically wounded him. “Well… for _you_ I wouldn’t fight off one of those…” he added as a joking afterthought. “I might fight something smaller in your honor… like a unicorn sphinx? Or perhaps a dragon witch?”

Logan and Virgil both paused for a moment.

“...What?” the rat said in utter confusion as Virgil stared blankly at the floor, trying to imagine what even one of those creatures would look like.

Roman just sighed, rubbing his temples in apparent exasperation even as a small smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Just go with it, Specs,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand, the dramatic bravado that Virgil _totally_ hadn’t missed from their first meeting finally creeping back into his voice. “Basically, for Virgil to get back to his true lo…” he trailed off. “Uh, his true _platonic_ love, I’ll brave any challenges that face us!”

“...Even a disgruntled skeleton that specifically banned you from visiting him Monday through Thursday because you kept disrupting his sleeping schedule?”

“Alright, is it my fault that he and his little psychoanalytic spider pal keep their library under lock and key, and that my best ideas that require that specific research located in those books often happen at 2 in the morning?” Lightly flicking the rat’s ear, Roman shot him a joking glare. “Besides, it’s your fault he locked it up, isn’t it?

“As I’ve stated before, I had no way of knowing that the books were owned by any particular person, and as such, I am not at fault,” Logan retorted, slipping around his neck to stare at Virgil from his other shoulder. “I’m sure Virgil would rather us focus on getting ourselves back to the land of the Living rather than bickering about whose fault anything is?”

Roman groaned, but nodded, looking towards Virgil as if for some sign of confirmation.

There was a moment of silence, gazes flickering between the figures as they waiting for someone to speak.

“So… we g-good?” Virgil finally asked, twisting the ring on his left hand almost nervously as he looked between the two in front of him. “Like, do we know h-how to get back... up there?”

“Well, no,” Logan said. “But…”

“...I might know someone who could help us out with it,” Roman finally said halfheartedly. “It’s only Tuesday, isn’t it? Rem is going to _kill_ me.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can listen to the piano piece from the movie that inspired this scene [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r7RqJlEikDQ)! 
> 
> So, if you haven't guessed, I may have taken some creative liberties with the plot from this point forwards... with how I felt Roman would react to things, as well as the added subplot of Patton and Roman being brothers, some changes had to be made. But, never fear! The core point of the original 'Corpse Bride' story won't be changed; I might just be mixing it up a little ;D Part II of this particular section should be up within the week!


End file.
